


Unlawful Arrest

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Jack is so fucking done with all of you, Lunacy in general, M/M, Smut-ish, pretty sure this arrest isn't legal, so...smack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack lets Will take down Hannibal. That may not have been the best idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlawful Arrest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chronicopheliac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/gifts).



> High five to one of my murder pals, Chronicopheliac, we took the same prompt - _Will and Hannibal role play an arrest_ \- and tried to display just how differently fic authors can interpret it.  
>  Also, Victorine, this is for you, since you were so excited by the idea.

Five fucking messages. 

The last time Jack had been reduced to leaving five messages, Bella had almost left him. He doubted Will was worried about being neglected, but the empath had him spooked. Their last conversation about Hannibal hadn’t exactly left the agent with a warm, fuzzy feeling. 

The empath had promised him he was on the cusp of proving the doctor was the Chesapeake Ripper. The agent was still worried that Will was too deep in the investigation, but Jack’s feelings on the doctor had cooled too. He still couldn’t believe that his friend was a killer, but there was something about Will’s devotion to the concept and Hannibal’s odd devotion to Will that was compelling. 

Jack had OK’d Will’s impromptu plan, praying that the empath wasn’t as broken as Alana and Chilton believed him to be. He gave Will two days to make his case, or drop it forever.

It had been three. 

When Jack’s increasingly curse-laden messages went unanswered, he called Hannibal – not sure whether he wanted to warn the doctor of Will’s intentions or force Hannibal to establish an alibi should Will be reported missing. 

His third call to Hannibal went unanswered, prompting Jack to begin his frantic drive to Wolf Trap, snow storm or no. 

Jack pulled up behind Dr. Lecter’s Bentley, noting that the falling snow had accumulated on the windshield and hood. Lecter had been here an hour at least. Not a good sign. 

Bad sign number two came when Jack spotted Will’s pack, dancing around the front door, whining and scratching at the worn wood. 

“Shit.” 

Jack drew his gun. He could hear Schubert blaring in the house and wondered if someone was trying to cover up the sounds of a struggle. The dogs milled around his legs as he crept to a window. 

His gut dropped. 

One chair lay broken on the floor, another was overturned and surrounded by broken glass and crushed vegetation. Will was right. Hannibal was the Ripper, and Jack in all his foolishness hadn’t listened. He could only hope Hannibal hadn’t killed him yet. 

Jack couldn’t wait to call it in. If Will was still alive, he wouldn’t be for much longer. Gun in hand, he pulled the door ajar, mindful to keep the dogs outside, lest they contaminate the scene. 

He cleared the corners and walked into the room, only to spot Hannibal, cuffed and gagged with his own tie in the corner, his suit torn and a bruise blooming on his jaw. The doctor’s eyes went wide when he saw Jack and he struggled to get up. 

“Hannibal! Stay where you are.” Jack pointed his gun at the doctor. “Will? Are you hurt? Come out, I’ve got the bastard covered.”

Hannibal was trying to speak through the gag, struggling in earnest with the cuffs. 

“Save it,” Jack snarled. “I should have listened to Will from the beginning. 

A rustling behind Jack drew his attention as the bathroom door opened. 

“Did you say something Hannibal? Because I have to tell you, your silver tongue isn’t going to save you from going downtown, though I can think of one way that mouth of yours might get you off.” 

Will walked into the room sporting a New Orleans Police Department Hat, a gun belt, an impressive hard-on, and nothing else. Jack made a choking noise and immediately turned to Hannibal, who was clearly smirking even with a gag in his mouth. 

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will froze. 

“Jack?” The agent and the empath stared at each other, Jack reminding himself to keep his eyes well above the throbbing flesh arching up from Will’s crotch. He hadn’t put his gun away. 

At this point, he was just trying to figure out who to shoot first. 

Himself, probably himself.

Will opened his mouth.

“Pants first,” Jack barked. “Then you explain.”

Will dove for the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with a fire red face and badly tented sweatpants. 

Jack took a deep, calming breath, walked to the stereo and turned off the music. He was pretty sure Hannibal was laughing if the doctor’s shaking shoulders were any indication. 

After a moment of silence, Jack got tired of watching Will shift from foot to foot.

“So…You were going to catch Hannibal, right? Or did you say fuck and I just misheard?”

“I mean…I kinda did catch him. He is cuffed.” Hannibal was definitely fucking laughing now.

Jack glared at the empath. If he shot them both, he could stage the scene and go home before dinner.

“After three days of silence from you, I come here and find evidence of a struggle,” Jack pointed to the chairs in the kitchen. “Enter the house, and there’s a bound man in your bedroom. Then you come out in a decidedly non-regulation NOPD uniform… and that’s where I get fucking lost.”

“We talked.”

“Gonna need more than that, Will.” 

“I decided I don’t hate Hannibal after all. And, uh, he doesn’t hate me either.”

“Great. I owe Price five bucks.” Jack looked back at Hannibal. “I take it this means he’s not the Ripper?”

Will paused, cheeks flushing just slightly and eyes on the ground.

“Would I fuck him if he was?”

Hannibal’s eyes danced. Jack felt his grip tighten on his gun.

“Ok, great. Now we know Dr. Lecter isn’t the Ripper, and that you two are over your little spat. Mazel tov. Before I leave here and drink my body weight in bourbon, I’m going to need three questions answered – with as little goddamn detail as possible.”

Will nodded.

“One. Explain the chair and the glass.”

Will ducked his head and ran a hand through his curls. 

“Oh, uh, that was me. When I jumped into Hannibal’s lap, I guess the force from it, or our combined weight, uh, snapped the leg. I tried to catch the table and ended up knocking over the flowers he brought me. I was going to clean it up, but–” 

“You had arrests to make, yes, I know. Question two, why is there a bruise on Hannibal’s jaw?”

This time, Will turned pink. Hannibal rocked onto his heels looking far too pleased for a man who could still be thrown in the back of a squad car with a minimum of fuss. 

“He has a great jaw line. I guess I got a little overly excited about–”

“STOP,” Jack bellowed. Will winced, Hannibal puffed out his chest and tiled his jaw toward Jack. 

“Final question”

Jack pulled the gag from Hannibal’s mouth. 

“Is he telling the truth, or has he finally gone as batshit as Freddie Lounds thinks he is?”

Hannibal shifted his freed jaw to the side, listening to it pop at the stretch.

“I assure you, Jack. This is incredibly consensual.” 

“I have to tell you, Dr. Lecter, I kinda wish you were the Ripper,” Jack said as Hannibal, still cuffed, moved toward Will. “Bodies I can deal with, but this Christian Grey shit? That’ll haunt me for years.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at Jack, Will cocked his head.

“What? Bella hosted book club last week!”

Hannibal smiled, Will continued to stare at his feet. 

“Well gentlemen, this has been a truly memorable evening. Dr. Lecter, I’ll see you at the dinner party on Saturday. Will, I’ll see you in my nightmares for the foreseeable future.” 

Turning on his heel, Jack bolted for the door. He threw it open and waded through the sea of dogs. He took out his cellphone and dialed home as he crunched through the fresh snow toward his car. 

“Baby, do you still have some of that purple kush? Great, I’m going to need to share some when I get home. I’ll tell you later. Do you want me to pick up some Oreos or Cheetos?” Jack laughed. “Alright, I’ll get both. Oh, and Bella? I owe you that twenty.”


End file.
